Everything started when I was 8. I have bipolar so the only thing I could let it out was by anger. I would come home from school throwing things, yelling, and kicking things. I was a devil child, for real. Anyways It would get so bad to where I would start screaming 'I want to die' and saying 'I just want to go home' Every doctor I went to said I needed to be put in a mental hospital. When I say I was bad I mean really bad. I would yell "I hate you" to everyone in the house and would slap and hit my sister. I would also break anything I could find. I hated myself so much. I would try to commit suicide at least 6 times when I was younger but couldn't because I was too scared. This continued until I was about 10. By then my aunt and uncle had both died, and I was begining to become depressed. At age 11 my best friend since third grad got in a car crash and both her and her sister died. I was lost then. I wouldn't eat and the only words I could mutter were 'go away.' I was broken and I had no idea how I was going to live my life now that my best friend slipped out of my hands. As I turned 12 things got rough. I still wouldn't eat and I still wouldn't talk. I was bullied pretty much all my life but it got worse then. I would get called fat, ugly, stupid, pathetic, worthless, a whore, and got told to die mutiple times. Age 13 was the first time I cut myself. It was only once then and I swore I would never do it again. I was still geting bullied then so I still was very depressed. Age 14 was bad. I had lost all my friends and they promised never to leave me. I would tear my skin open with anything I could find. A bobby pin was my main tool. I would use razors, bobby pins, paper clips, nails, and I would scratch myself. One day I was ready to commit and this time was for rela and my sister had her back to me so I ran up to get a knife but she caught me. I was I locked myself in my room and I tried cutting as deep I could but the knife was dull. I heard my mom call the cops and that's when I stoped trying. All I remember was geting wheeled into the ambulance. I got to the hospital. I was crying a whole lot. I had nothing left in myself and my mom was gone. About an hour of sitting in a room with nothing in it but a chair my mom came in. She was crying. I was crying. Everything just didn't feel right. We sat in the room for atleast 8 hours waiting for someone to come in to tell us the news. Finally they did and said I would be going to a mental hospital for a week. The hospital was horrible. I had four people call "dibs" on me. My roomate was horrible. She was there because she tried to kill her grandmother. Everyone there scared me. The food was horrible and the place stunk of mildew. The beds were hard as a rock and the gym we had to go to smelt of mold. We were walking outside and apparently someone died there. The staff was rude and we were treated like prisoners. I don't know if you have ever had anyone call dibs on you but it's not fun when they keep touching you. Like a said I stayed in there for a week and when I was out I acted like I was happy even though I wasn't. I couldn't go back to school for another week so I was stuck at my house doing nothing. Going back to school was hard. Everyone was giving me these weird look like they knew something. Sad enough some people found out. The friends that I had left were there for me though. Things were even more hard after the hospital. I would still get bullied and I would still feel so bad about myself. I started cutting again but this time it was worse. I would cut up my legs and arms. I even carved "fuck up" in to my left leg. I've got "ew" on my stomach and "fat" on my arm. It was by then I was hearing voices in my head telling me how stupid and worthless I was. They told me to do things like cut myself or scratch myself. They would tell me all the things the bullies said but worse. Ugly, fat, stupid, pathetic and more. I mainly felt ugly and fat. I still do today. I finally got out of all this and told my mom what was happening. She took me back to the doctor and yes it took some time but I soon got on the right medication. A year later I got bad again. I would hear the voices again. I started having suicidal thoughts. If I were in a moving car I would get tempted to jump. I would treaten to take a lot of pills and I tried that but I was just sick after. My mom knew so I ended up going back to another mental hospital but this one wasn't so bad. I actually made friends. I got out of the mental hospital about a week later and I came to a car with a huge stuffed bunny and cat with warheads. I was better for about 3 months but I started cutting again. I wrote "Ugly" on my thigh. I wrote "fat" on my arm, and I wrote "nasty" on my stomach. Thankfully I quit now and haven't cut for a week. I'm trying my hardest to not cut. The only thing that makes me happy today is music and my mom. That's all I need now. Thanks for your support! Love you guys and stay strong!
